


Kamino Downtime

by NotebookishType



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic (Comics), Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anakin gets around, Angst, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Fetishizing Twi'leks, Force Bond (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, Infidelity, M/M, Master/Padawan Relationship(s), Screw the Jedi code, mentioned Kit Fisto/Aayla Secura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotebookishType/pseuds/NotebookishType
Summary: While stationed at the Kamino Cloning Facility Anakin ambushes his Master.





	Kamino Downtime

Obi-Wan gasped for air, struggling to jumpstart his brain. Anakin had him backed against the wall of his makeshift quarters in the Kamino cloning facility and held him firmly in place, teasing him with nips and kisses. 

Obi-Wan was amazed at how quickly Anakin had acclimated to his new limb, which was currently wrapped in a dark leather glove and pressed against his chest. He’d seen him regularly without the glove, had personally begged him to wear it if for no other reason than to protect his delicate new hardware. But the only time Anakin obeyed was in a situations where he might make others uncomfortable, suggesting that he’d planned this ambush.

Anakin’s flesh hand was tangled in Obi-Wan’s hair, tilting his head as he desired, deepening the kisses.

Their current kiss came to a natural end, causing Obi-Wan to groan at the loss. Anakin’s lips moved to tend to Obi-Wan’s neck, and Anakin’s knee pressed insistently between his thighs.

“This is wrong,” he managed, barely able to think. 

Anakin grunted a distracted acknowledgement, running his fingers along the opening of Obi-Wan’s tunic, his lips and teeth following close behind.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fell shut, and he leaned his head against the wall. “We really shouldn’t be doing this…” He trailed off, wondering how his guard had fallen so horribly when Anakin had approached him. How had a somber exchange about the war taken this turn? And why did this feel so right?

“That’s what seems to make it so appealing,” Anakin breathed, taking him by the chin and meeting his gaze before leaning in for another deep kiss.

“Yes,” he agreed with a gasp. Anakin’s hand slipped past the waistband of his pants. “No. I mean no. That’s not what I meant…” He was out of breath once more after struggling with the words, surprised that he’d managed so many in the first place.

Anakin’s breath tickled Obi-Wan’s ear. “Oh?” he asked, voice smooth and casual as he began to knead Obi-Wan’s thigh with his gloved hand. Obi-Wan opened his mouth but no words came out. He didn’t want this to end. “I was thinking about that,” Anakin said between kisses along Obi-Wan’s neck.

“That?” A small part of him was concerned by how readily his body reacted to Anakin’s touch. It never had before. Though Anakin had never touched him quite like this.

“The Code,” Anakin continued, nuzzling his neck. “What good is the Master-Padawan bond if a Jedi is trained to deny themselves attachments? Passion? Every master comes to care for their Padawan--not usually romantically--but there is always love of some kind.”

He blinked, amazed and irritated that Anakin could think and speak so clearly. “Doesn’t that contradict the Jedi Code?”

“It seems to me that the code contradicts the Jedi,” Anakin replied easily.

“Ani, I think-”

“Don’t call me that.”

They were both silent for a long moment. Anakin sighed quietly, adding in a gentle tone, “Master.”

“I…I’m sorry Anakin. I didn’t--” He was interrupted once more, this time by Anakin’s mouth on his.“What made you think about the Jedi Code, anyhow?” he gasped when they parted, bringing a hand to rest on Anakin’s shoulder in a weak attempt to push him away.

“Masters Fisto and Secura.” Anakin shrugged, attention moving to the task of unfastening Obi-Wan’s tunic.

“Kit and Aayla?”

“Mm,” Anakin hummed, mouth returning to its slow exploration.

“I think you’re seeing sordid love affairs wherever you like,” Obi-Wan ventured. Is that what this was?

“They’re together now.”

How could he know that?

Anakin’s presence melted into the Force, and he projected an impression of the other Jedi. A mingling of images and thoughts. Feelings. And a sound not unlike their own ragged breathing. Anakin was as aroused by this as their own activities. Anakin offered a quiet grunt, and he picked up on his thoughts, _I love the supple curves of lekku._

“He’s sucking on her tchun-tchin.” The throaty whisper brought a wave of heat to his cheeks. 

“Oh?”

Anakin's fingers danced over the newly-bared skin of Obi-Wan’s chest “Her lekku, Master.”

He inhaled sharply. “Of course.”

“Anyone”--Anakin kissed a sloppy trail over his navel--“with an ounce of sensuality”-- Anakin’s tongue darted teasingly over his hip bone--“knows that’s what the twi’lek call them.”

Obi-Wan’s body buzzed. How long had that been going on? How often did Anakin use the Force to invade the privacy of others? Was this a coincidence, or had Anakin arranged this with them? He knew he should feel shame, but all he felt was a thrill, and a compulsion to keep touching Anakin.

“That would explain it then.” He took a deep breath, and grabbed Anakin by the wrist, spurred on by the erotic questions he burned to ask. “I’m not sensual. Or sexual.” He kissed Anakin lightly, coaxing him to turn his back to the wall. “There isn’t an erotic bone in my body.”

His heart raced as he undid Anakin’s belt. 

“That doesn’t surprise me, most people don’t have-” He stole Anakin’s mouth, plundering it eagerly. His hands slid over Anakin’s perfect skin, exploring his chest and stomach as the kiss eased into something soft and slow. Anakin exhaled noisily. “Then again...”

Obi-Wan pushed Anakin back against the wall, bare chests pressed together as he leaned into another kiss; his hand moved between them, easily palming the hardness that pressed into his hip, drawing a low groan from Anakin. He ramped up the slow torture, lips moving to Anakin’s neck while he continued the long deliberate strokes.

“Master.” Anakin’s voice was a low growl as he grabbed at his wrist. “If you continue at that pace, I will never forgive you.”

He bit back a laugh, and moved both hands to Anakin’s chest. He offered a mockery of their earlier kisses. “In a rush, are we?”

Anakin responded with an increased fire, pulling him closer and taking a firm hold of his backside. Their gasps filled the space between them, and he was soon sorry for teasing. He could barely stand as Anakin ground against him.

He pulled back, initiating a much slower kiss as he worked the closure on Anakin’s pants, and finally stroked him with no fabric between them. The resounding noises of pleasure spurred him on, lips trailing over Anakin’s chest and stomach as he lowered himself to his knees. He teased along Anakin’s waistline before drawing his weeping cock into his mouth.

He massaged the underside of Anakin’s cock with his tongue, thrilled by the moan he drew. Anakin thrust into his mouth, hands winding into his hair and tugging to urge him on. Obi-Wan fumbled for Anakin’s hand in his hair, and squeezed it before he pulled off to catch his breath. He huffed a few breaths and then returned his mouth to Anakin, teasingly circling the head of his cock with his tongue.

Anakin’s hands were in his hair again, trying to guide the depth and speed of his movements. He held Anakin’s hips against the wall, pulled back with a cough, and glared up at Anakin.

“Sorry,” Anakin managed, defeat clear in his breathless voice. “I promise not to pull. Please, just don’t stop.”

He considered making Anakin beg, but he didn’t want to torture him. Well, not as much as he wanted to please him. He sucked tentatively at first, then thoroughly licked Anakin’s length before taking in as much of him as he could. 

The head of Anakin’s cock bumped against the back of his throat. He found the sensation delicious, and had to fight with the desire to take the other man by the hips and pull him forward in a manner that would likely choke him. 

“Master.” Anakin’s voice was between a growl and a purr as his eyes rolled shut.

He stroked at the base of Anakin’s cock, and massaged his balls, all the while working the shaft with his mouth and throat. His cock twitched at the groan from Anakin.

“Please,” Anakin whimpered with a desperate thrust. “…so close.”

He was pleased by Anakin’s reactions and eager to bring him to orgasm. Increasing his speed and intensity to the best of his ability, Obi-Wan resumed sucking and bobbing along Anakin’s dick.

He leaned into Anakin’s erratic thrusts, meeting them as best he could. Anakin’s cock hit the back of his throat again, but this time he held him still and swallowed hard. He shut his eyes, sensing the beginning of Anakin’s orgasm. Anakin shuddered and groaned, grabbing at his hair again, managing two more thrusts before spilling into his mouth.

Anakin stroked his hair, mumbling sweetly but incoherently. Mostly incoherently. “Padmé.”

Obi-Wan pulled back, coughing and sputtering. He looked up at Anakin, wiping his mouth, and at a loss for words. Padmé?

Anakin opened his eyes, leaning to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan was still coughing as he reached out with the Force. He didn’t have to probe far to catch the fading thought of the young Senator from Naboo.

“Fine,” he said coldly, rising to his feet.

“Master?”

Obi-Wan blinked, considering what to say, what he could say.

But long before anything could come to mind, there was a banging on the door. Whoever it was apparently thought door chimes were too time consuming. By the fourth heavy pound against the durasteel, a female voice joined in: one with the slightest hint of a Twi’lek accent. “Let’s go, General. Battle stations!” 

Obi-Wan and Anakin looked at one another then moved to gather their robes as the sound of far off emergency klaxons grew steadily.

“Master?” Anakin tried again.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, avoiding Anakin’s gaze. “You heard the woman.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story that I originally posted on AFF in 2005, under the name StrictMachine. Cleaned up the POV and did a few tweaks. This was inspired by Star Wars: Republic Issue 50 and Tides of Terror in Star Wars: Tales Issue 14.
> 
> Thank you to FestiveFerret and ashes0909 for beta reading and encouraging me through the edits!


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